


She Comes at Midnight

by DisasterLesbean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, F/F, Midnight Man AU, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 11:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17182322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterLesbean/pseuds/DisasterLesbean
Summary: She supposes if she’s going to be haunted for the rest of her life, Bellatrix makes a good companion.





	She Comes at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> I entirely blame discord

The last thing Hermione wants during dead week is her friends knocking on her door. With the third knock she knows she’s doomed. She’s ignored the first two knocks but they aren’t slowing. The groupchat on her phone lights up again with her friends cajoling her. 

“Let us in!” Neville calls through the door. There are other hushes and laughs so she knows he isn’t alone. She closes her textbook before standing and heading over to the door. She knows she won’t be able to finish her work until she gets rid of her friends. As soon as she opens the door bodies coming piling into her room. 

“We need you!” Ginny wraps her arms around her into a stumbling hug.

“Can’t you need me in a week? When finals are over?” 

“It has to be now.” Ron’s voice books no argument.

“What’s so important?”

“We’re rubbish at timing apparently.” Harry offers and everyone makes noises of agreement.

“Harry, surely you’re on my side?” 

Harry rubs the back of his neck, a blush working it’s way up his face. “It’s just, we need your help and we think you could use a break from studying.” 

“Yeah! You don’t want to overstudy.” Ron chimed in excitedly.

“What’s this about?”

“Midnight man!”

“The what now?” 

“Midnight Man, you light candles and summon him.” There it is. Being the only Witch in her group of friends often gets her requests like this. They ask her questions about crystals they could easily google themselves and dumb questions about Wicca. She loves them so she puts up with it. Most of the time. 

“You came into my room in the middle of dead week about some idiotic summoning you probably read about on the internet?” 

“It’s real! People have legit stories about the Midnight Man.” Ron defends. He’s the only one brave enough when Hermione is scowling like she is now.

“I’m sure everything people say online is true. I’m sure when you set yourself up to be scared you will be scared. It’s not real Ron. What is real are our tests that I doubt any of you have studied for.” 

“I have.” Ginny mutters.

“And I support that but has anyone else.” A smattering of no’s answer her. “Then go study and leave the Midnight Man be.” She couldn’t help the eye roll at having to say the words ‘Midnight Man’.

“We can’t! It needs to happen before we all leave to go home during the holidays. We need to do it together.” Ginny refuses to be moved.

“Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” Neville said wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders. 

“Oh don’t do that.”

Harry leans into Neville’s embrace. “I have to go back to the Dursleys to get the rest of my stuff. Here I just want my real family’s support to get through it.” 

“Bugger off you want to summon an evil entity for kicks.”

“But as a family.”

“You won’t let me study until I agree will you?” A series of no’s go off again. “You have to stop that, people will start thinking we’re a hive mind.” 

“Aren’t we?”

“Where are we doing this? Not here, I can tell you that.” 

“Don’t worry ‘Mione we need a house not a dorm.” Ron answers. “That’s why it’ll be at Luna and Ginny’s.” 

“You’re okay with that?” Hermione asked Ginny.

“So long as everyone does their job right he’ll leave by three thirty-three.” Ginny shrugged. 

“What happens if people don’t do their job right?”

“Uhhh, that varies. Torture or death, the usual.”

“Charming.”

“Relax you don’t think it’s real.” Ron waves away her concerns. “Even though it’s a legit Pagan ritual.”

“Ron, it was probably made up by a bunch of loser trying to scare people online. It’s about as real as Santa.”

“Then we’re set!” 

She ends up squished between Harry and Ron in the back seat as Neville drives with Luna and Ginny in the passenger seat. Ginny has read and reread the instructions to summon the Midnight Man several times to Hermione. She wants to make sure Hermione gets it right since they apparently messed it up the prior night. She calls them on doing it without her therefore undercutting wanting to do it as a family but rather just needing her help. They all stutter out sheepish replies before changing the subject. They’re at Ginny and Luna’s house before Hermione loses her cool and elbows one of the boys giving her no room to breathe. 

The lights are already out and no one bothers turning them head towards the basement. Hermione had argued the basement wasn’t a great place to start but they all wanted authenticity, whatever that meant escapes Hermione. They gather around the door to the basement, everyone has a candle and their own paper. They all start writing their names on the pieces of paper when Ginny murmurs they have to prick their finger to bleed on the page, a fact she left out of her earlier instructions. 

“Of course we have to add our blood, how could we possibly summon a demon without our blood.” Hermione drolls unentertained by hoops her friends are making her go through. 

They all set their papers in front of the door, candles lit, and step back to let Hermione do the knocking. She starts her knocking, twenty-two raps until the last one beats the door at the strike of midnight. She opens the door, blows out the candle, and closes the door. She relights the candle. The game has begun.

Luna is the first to begin moving, as is central to the game. She moves without speaking or looking at anyone, following the rules and pushing the others to follow suit. Hermione wants to sigh loudly but refrains for her friends sake. She feels she deserves to be left alone entirely until after finals for this. 

As soon as she walks through the door she feels chills crawl up her spine. It feels like fingers running up her spine, stopping at the nape of her neck. She lets out a shaky breath, there is no way she’s letting this game get to her. She starts walking throughout the house, doing her  
best to stay away from the others. 

Logically, playing a game where the players summon a demon with blood and a shitty ritual will set her nerves on edge. Also logically, if she’s looking for something then she’ll see something. Walking around a dark house with nothing but candles is always unnerving but when there’s supposedly a demon loitering it’s sure to make it even more so. That’s what she keeps telling herself as the night goes on.

The shadows move around her. She’s keeps noticing it but keeps disregarding it. It doesn’t matter that the shadows are moving, it’s just the light from the candle. It’s nothing. Yet, they keep moving. Never when she’s looking at them. They always move in her peripheries. The moment she turns her focus to them they stop moving. It’s just the candles. Despite this, a bead of cold sweat drips down her neck. The shadows dance around her but she keeps walking. That’s important she knows, according the rules, to keep moving. She doesn’t believe it’s real but she keeps moving. The shadows wait at her back and she doesn’t want to pay them mind. She doesn’t want to give them any validation.

The house is old, of course it creaks. It’s creaked before tonight and will creak after tonight. The fact there is no music and no one is talking makes the creaks louder. The fact that she’s supposed to be scared makes the creaks louder. It’s not because the Midnight Man is here, it’s not because there’s something demonic, it’s just the wood. It doesn’t matter that like the shadows, the creaks are behind her, to her side, anywhere but in front of her. Her hand still shakes. She doesn’t stop, the shadows and creaks trail her.

It’s winter, it’s nearly the holidays. It’s snowing outside, covering the earth with ice. Ginny and Luna left the heater off as to not interfere with the game. That’s why it’s suddenly cold. That’s why her teeth are chattering. That’s why chills weave themself across her body despite her jumper. 

So then surely, the silhouettes she sees are coat racks. Lanky objects her mind wants to trick her with. Buried in shadows and surrounded by creaks, just coat racks. She doesn’t look at the silhouettes like she did with the shadows. She wants to think it’s because she doesn’t want to give them the validation but it’s not. The clock strikes one. It’s been an hour. An hour and she’s beginning to wonder if it really is a game or if she really is that gullible.

She shouldn’t have given the game any consideration because then the sounds start up. She could dissuade the rest but the whispers. They start as a low hum but build. They get closer and closer. She starts walking quicker to get further from them but the distance still shortens. Whispers building into murmurs. She hasn’t seen the others since the whispering started. She’s following a dark hallway which ends with a room. A cackle sounds next to her ear, a chill grazing her ear as it goes off. It sends her reeling into the room. Her candle goes out. 

_One._

Her hands shake as she pulls her lighter out. 

_Two._

She tries to open the cap but her fingers slip. 

_Three._

She gets the cap opens and drags her finger over it, sparks light. The temperature in the room drops further. 

_Four._

The lights goes out.

_Five._

The whispering starts back up right behind her back. Her name is being whispered, telling her to look around. She tries the lighter again and puts the flame against the candle wick.

_Six._

It won’t light.

_Seven._

Her hearts racing, the time is slipping away. The whispers grow angrier, closer still. They’re in her hair, on her ear, instead of warm breath it’s cold air. Cold breath. Don’t turn around, don’t look, no time to light the candle. She brings out the salt.

_Eight._

She carelessly pours the salt as quick as she can, shaky hands making a messy circle. She doesn’t look up. 

_Nine._

The circle is finished.

_Ten._

She’s safe in the circle. A creak sounds off to her left, another ahead of her in the darkness. She flicks the lighter on, she can only see around the circle. The curtains are drawn on the window, no moonlight is coming through. She can see the low green of an alarm clock but it isn’t bright enough to offer more. She looks back at the door that she came through, it’s closed. She didn’t close it. 

She’s in Luna and Ginny’s bedroom on the second floor. She knows this room and she knows this house. It has thin walls. 

“If you guys are fucking with me you are so dead!” Hermione yells. They had to have closed the do after she came through. One of them is in the room with her. A creak sounds near the closet. “I swear Ron, this isn’t funny.” It has to be Ron, he’s the only one who’d take it this far. It has to be. A creak near the alarm clock. A silhouette is barely illuminated by the green glow. Too short for Ron. A finger drags across the wood in front of the clock. Her heart stops. The hair is too busy for any of her friends. A cackle sounds of from the silhouette causing Hermione to flinch.

The silhouette is gone. 

It’s not one of her friends. 

She can’t help but breathe quicker, panic coming on quick. This could not be happening. There’s no way their stupid game actually brought something. There’s no way. “Guys!” This house has thin walls. They should hear her. They have to hear her. “I’m not kidding get me out of here!” Nothing, no footsteps, the door remains shut. She buries her head in her arms. This is real.

She does something she almost never does, she prays. 

“You follow the old ways?” A voice asks from in front of her, she jumps. 

“What?”

“You’re Pagan?”

“Uh, Wiccan.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a sect of Paganism, sort of.”

“Why didn’t you just say so!” Fabric drags across wood. 

“Did you just sit down?”

“Of course, you’re fine aren’t you?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the Midnight Man right?”

“Do I sound like the Midnight Man?”

“Midnight Woman?”

“That’s what you humans call me.” 

“You’re known for you know, torturing and killing?” 

“Since when’s a little fright killed people?” 

“All the time!”

She’s talking to the Midnight Man, Woman, instead of being killed. She just wanted to study.

“Well, what’s your name?” 

“Names are power to demons.” 

“Demon is harsh.” 

“You just called me human.”

“Touché.” A snicker, warmer than the cackles. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Trades with demons are also not smart.”

“Are you always smart?”

“I try to be.”

“How smart was summoning a demon known for torturing and killing?”

A beat of silence.

“Touché.” She lets out a breath. She still has her circle afterall. “Hermione.”

“A lovely name.” The Midnight Woman drawls. “Bellatrix.” 

“If I say it you won’t die right?”

“You don’t want me dead. How touching.”

“No reason to kill you.” Maybe Bellatrix wasn’t so bad. 

“So you can just break the circle then.” Nevermind. 

“Good try.” Bellatrix leans closer, finally in the ring of light. She’s astonishing. Hermione has to tap down on the instinct to trace along her jawline. Her hair is wild but perfectly so. Her eyes are magnetic, they draw Hermione in and she can’t look away. 

“I would never.” Bellatrix’s affront is fake, she dramatically plasters a hand against her chest. Her tongue is caught between her teeth in a smug smile. Hermione feels butterflies fills her stomach. 

“What are you doing here? I’m in the circle now but my friends aren’t.” She doesn’t know why she’s reminding the possibly killer demon about her vulnerable friends but it seems like a good question. 

“Oh, pet. Why would I go haunt them when I could be up here with you?” The demon is flirting with her now. She feels a blush splotch across her cheeks and wants to curse. Judging by Bellatrix’s piercing look and pleased smile she sees it too. Curses. “So, tell me about yourself.”

She hadn’t expected to spend her night with a demon but here she is. Bellatrix, true to her word, doesn’t leave. She stays and asks Hermione about herself and shares bits about her life as well. Apparently Bellatrix’s whole family are demons. It puts her mind through the ringer. She doesn’t stop flirting and Hermione can’t stop blushing. Doesn’t stop her from flirting back. It dawns on her that this is the first time she’s flirted with anyone since her disastrous two day relationship with Ron. Moreover, it dawns on her she’s having more fun than she ever did with him. 

“You should talk to them more, I’m sure they miss you.” Bellatrix offers more serious than most of her commentary so far. She’s sitting criss-cross in front of the circle, hands splayed on her knees leaning towards Hermione. Hermione was leaning back on her hands, legs draped out carelessly. 

“It’s just difficult. They wanted me to take over at the family business but I wanted to go to school.”

“I know all about that. I wanted to go work for My Lord but here I am. Probation. It’s terrible I mostly just haunt prepubescents.” Hermione had to laugh at that.

“I’m sure it’s just the worst.”

“Most of the time.” She couldn’t mistake Bellatrix’s meaning.

She knows what she’s about to do is stupid. Crazy even. She knows better. She isn’t an idiot. Yet as the clock strikes three-thirty, she pushes the toe of her shoe through the salt, breaking the circle. The flame flickers across Bellatrix’s eyes as her gaze follows the break in the circle. Her expression darkens and Hermione’s throat is thick. She knows demons can seduce and lie but she hopes she hasn’t miscalculated. Bellatrix has seemed genuine, so genuine, she has to be real.

As Bellatrix launches towards her, Hermione’s heart stops working. When her lips lock onto her own, it starts again. She all but tackles her to the floor, dragging Hermione’s leg across her waist. “You couldn’t have done that earlier than the time I have to go?” Bellatrix mumbled into her mouth.

“Safety measure in case you had planned on torturing me to death I’m afraid.” Hermione buries a hand in Bellatrix’s waist, pulling her closer.

“Rude.” The clock nears three thirty-three, seconds left.

“Come back?”

“You let me in darling, there’s no getting rid of me now.” She rasps back. The words although are reassuring they are also ominous. She just opened herself to Bellatrix and as long as Bellatrix desires, Hermione is hers. 

Later when her friends talk about it being a bust, she nods along.

She supposes if she’s going to be haunted for the rest of her life, Bellatrix makes a good companion.


End file.
